


Holiday Rush

by RosieTheRo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Human AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRo/pseuds/RosieTheRo
Summary: Emil re-discovers his Christmas spirit.secret santa gift for ju-ka-c on tumblr.





	Holiday Rush

**Author's Note:**

> so, this was my submission for this year's aph rarepair exchange: http://aphsecretsanta.tumblr.com/  
> it was a fun little thing to write, and not a pairing i'd typically consider!
> 
> names:  
> Emil - Iceland  
> Sigurd - Norway  
> Beck - Denmark

“Who the hell leaves a cart in a handicapped space…”

Emil grit his teeth and braced his feet against the asphalt, shoving the line of half a dozen carts through the snowy parking lot, back towards the store.

“Takes a special kind of asshole,” he grumbled to himself. “Wonder if they even think about what they’re doing…”

He was giving himself a distraction, mostly. Venting his annoyance at inconsiderate customers seemed more productive than sulking over his current state; bringing carts back to the grocery store so shoppers could stuff them to the brim with holiday foods and crowd the registers, demanding what was taking so long while Emil and his coworkers scanned and bagged as fast as they could, the promise of rent money keeping them going, and then the carts would get left out in the parking lot all over again and whichever poor soul was available would be the one getting them. 

Usually this job wasn’t so bad, but the holiday season brought out every negative aspect and made it a hundred times worse. Emil shivered, the cold metal bleeding through his gloves a hard, unpleasant contrast to how sweaty and sticky he felt under his gross polyester work shirt.

“Two more hours,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes with a deep breath. “Two more hours than it’s two days off. You can do this, you can-”

His sneaker hit a patch of ice hidden by the snow and he suddenly slipped, his face pitching forward right into the metal cart of in front of him, lined up perfectly so he would smash his nose and mouth against the handle. He didn’t even make a noise, just surrendered to his fate of using his Christmas budget on dental surgery, when he suddenly stopped, millimeters away from the bar. He could see condensation forming on the metal where he breathed on it.

“Woah, that could’ve been bad!” a voice said in his ear, and he suddenly realized there was a pair of arms wrapped tight around his middle. “Would’ve been a lousy way to spend the season, huh?”

Emil blinked. Half his brain was still stuck in the bitter apathy of minimum wage work, while the other half was reeling with adrenaline, leaving him in a bit of a stupor. He turned and found a pink, smiling face over his shoulder, the stranger still holding him as if to make sure he’d found his footing. “Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

He staggered upright, bracing a hand against the line of carts to keep them from all rolling back down the parking lot again. He took another look at the stanger. A couple years older than him and maybe a few inches shorter, he looked right at home in the billowing snowfall, dressed head-to-toe in knitwear that bordered the line between traditionally quaint and garishly tacky, leaving only his cold-flushed face exposed. He seemed oblivious to the bitter chill, a wide smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes that was oddly fitting for the season. He hovered around Emil, hands out, as if spotting him in case he fell again, something Emil thought was kind of endearing. It wasn’t often a customer went out of their way for his well-being.

“Thanks,” he mumbled again, suddenly feeling awkward, and turned to push the carts up the hill.

“Oh, do you need help?” the stranger asked quickly, jumping forward.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” Emil said quickly, knowing corporate would have his hide if they heard he let a customer inconvenience themselves with manual labor. “Just gotta watch my step is all.”

He offered a weak smile, his face feeling strangely warm compared to the cold air blowing around him.

“Well, if you’re sure!” the stranger beamed, casually putting his mittened hands in his pockets. “You take care now, all right?”

“Yeah, you too,” Emil replied, watching the stranger head up to the store, turning to shoot one last smile in his direction before disappearing through the sliding doors. 

“Nice guy,” Emile thought to himself, bracing against the asphalt once more and shoving the line of carts. “Needs to be more people out there like him.”

\---

Back on his register, Emi worked mechanically, trying to zone out and make the next two hours go as fast as possible. He asked his list of stock questions, but didn’t bother to interact with customers beyond that, too tired and grumpy to try and have an actual conversation.

“Oh, hey there!”

His usual “Hello, did you find what you were looking for today?” died on his tongue as he looked up, recognizing the stranger from outside, peering over a pile of fancy licorice that filled his arms and reached up to his chin. He was still smiling, bright as ever. It took Emil back a bit, but it also made something warm and fuzzy stir in him, a kind of feeling he didn’t often get these days.

“That was you outside, right?” the man asked, boxes of licorice spilling from his arms onto the register. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Emil said, eyebrows raising at the mess in front of him. “So, stocking up, huh?”

The man laughed, looking abashed. “Hah, yeah, it's my biggest weakness, and I can only find it this time of year, so…”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Emil shrugged, offering a smile as he started scanning boxes. It was rare for him to give a customer such a genuine smile these days; he felt like he’d been drained dry months ago.

Something about this guy managed to coax one out of him, though.

It took five bags to contain all the boxes of licorice, leaving the cheerful man standing there with them hanging huge and bulky from his hands, but still with a wide, bright smile on his round face.

“Have a wonderful day, sir,” Emil said automatically as he handed over the receipt, but his smile was still honest.

“Oh come on, none of this ‘sir’ nonsense,” he replied with a laugh. “I'm not even thirty!”

“Well when I'm behind this counter, you kinda have to be ‘sir’,” Emil said wryly. “Company policy.”

“Well. Call me Tino next time, and if your manager gets mad at you tell them I insisted!”

Emil chuckled. “Will do. Take care.”

“You too, Emil!”

He turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving Emil puzzled for a moment before he remembered he wore a name tag.

“Kinda nice to know a customer's name for once,” he thought.

\---

Emil was trying really, _really_ hard to be in a good mood, honestly he was. But it was difficult with the headache building at the back of his skull, caused by the rush of noise and activity surrounding him. Visiting the mall around Christmas had always been an enchanting experience as a child, gawking at all the pretty decorations and bouncing along to the holiday music and feeding off the excited atmosphere shared by every other child around him.

Now it was just painful. 

“Hey.”

He looked up at the low voice, finding his oldest brother scrutinizing him closely, brows furrowed. “Emil, did you hear me?”

He blinked, flustered, and shook his head. “No, sorry Sigurd, what is it?”

“Have you decided what you want for Christmas yet?” Sigurd asked patiently.

Emil huffed. Two weeks away and he still had no idea.

“A master's and some goddamned direction in life would be nice,” he grumbled.

A heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder and he glanced up at Beck, the second-eldest brother, who was shooting him a sympathetic look.

“Would if we could, bud,” he said, giving Emil’s shoulder a hearty shake. “But, uh, how ‘bout a new sweater in the meantime, eh?”

Emil didn't reply, looking back at the ground. He wasn't angry at his brothers, far from it. He was just frustrated with, well, everything at the moment. Work sucked and his degree was useless. A new sweater was a nice gesture, but it wouldn't change anything.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, if nothing else to lift that worried look off Beck’s face. Sigurd didn't look as placated, but seemed unwilling to press the subject.

Beck dodged around Emil towards Sigurd, grinning. “Hey, I know what I want, though!”

“Of course you do,” Sigurd said dryly.

“You know that hippie shop?” Beck continued, seemingly ignoring his brother's tone. “They've got some sweet dragon statues in there, I can show you my favorites and you can pick one out for me!”

Sigurd shrugged, apparently satisfied. “Let's head that way then?”

Emil wrinkled his nose. “You guys go without me. All the incense in that place makes me sneeze.”

“Well, don't wonder too far,” Sigurd said sternly. “I don't want you getting lost in these crowds.” 

Emil glared at him. “I'm twenty-two.”

“Which if still seven years younger than me,” Sigurd replied. “Therefore, you're still the baby brother, and I still don't want you getting lost.”

Emil looked to Beck, but it seemed he didn't want to argue with his older brother either, just offering Emil a shrug.

“Fine,” Emil huffed. “I'll wait by the Santa village, okay?”

Sigurd nodded, looking satisfied, and led Beck off towards the other end of the mall, slipping away into the crowds. Emil huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and trudging off in the opposite direction, towards a corner covered in tinsel and fake snow, even more so than the rest of the shops.

The Santa village was a tradition at the mall, one that Emil thought was kind of stupid but weirdly charming. It was always painful, watching parents trying to coax their kids into sitting on a stranger's lap and hold still long enough to take a photo. Painful, but a little hilarious.

The “village” was set up with a candy-cane striped fence surrounding a little square of sparkly fake snow with a path winding through it. Cardboard cutouts of gingerbread houses and reindeer were propped up in the faux snow, looking tacky but kind of cute. At the end of the path was a wide backdrop of an arctic landscape, white lights twinkling through the cardboard. Sitting on a red throne covered in plastic holly and flanked by “elves,” was the big guy himself, whatever kind and patient soul the mall had hired to sit through hours of holiday nonsense in a scratchy polyester outfit. Bless that man, whoever he was.

Emil sat on a bench adjacent to the village, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Maybe Sigurd was right to make him stay put for a while. He was so high-strung his legs wouldn't stop jittering. 

He opened his eyes and tried to zone out, put himself out of his bitter mood with some people-watching. His gaze was drawn to the village itself, wondering if he could get some catharsis watching parents trying to wrangle their kids into getting a picture with Santa. 

That wasn't quite what he saw, but he couldn't say he was disappointed. Whoever they'd hired to play Santa this year, he was brilliant. He looked a little young, but his cheerful expression was perfect, right down to the sparkle in his eye, and most of his face was hidden by the beard anyway. Even though he was clearly pitching his voice down, his tone was kind and jovial, and he seemed to instantly enrapture any kid who came up to him. Even the kids who were crying quieted down when they looked up at his face.

Emil watched, a subconscious smile forming on his face, as Santa gently bopped a little girl on the tip of her nose, making her dissolve into a fit of giggles, before handing her back to her parents. He was beaming behind the fake beard, happily helping the next kid up onto his knee, listening raptly as the little boy babbled on about the puppy he wanted. 

It wasn't long before the line thinned out and the elves closed off the entrance, leaving a sign saying that Santa needed a hot cocoa break and would be back in half an hour. Fully zoned out at this point, Emil watched Santa bid farewell to a pair of little twins, then stand and stretch his back with a grunt.

“You'd think they'd put some cushions on this thing,” he said, clapping one of the elves jovially on the arm. “Hey, you two go get some coffee on me, all right? Merry Christmas!”

The elves, a pair of bored-looking teenagers, lightened up and scurried out of the village, towards the nearest coffee shop. Santa slipped behind the snowy backdrop, out of view from most of the mall but still in Emil’s line of sight. He fished a small lunchbox from behind a support beam and tugged off his hat and beard, revealing a round, cheerful face, which Emil was surprised to see he recognized.

Santa, or rather, the licorice-loving fellow who saved Emil from smashing his face on on a shopping cart, hummed to himself as he tugged a thermos out of the lunchbox and took a swig, smile still on his face. Then, he happened to turn, right towards the bench Emil was sitting on, and Emil realized he was still staring at him.

Both seemed stunned for a second, eyes locked in mild surprise, until Tino raised an arm and waved, beaming.

“Hey there!”

Emil hesitated a second, before he got to his feet and headed over to the candy-cane fence. Tino’s smile was infectious, and the corners of his lips twitched up as he approached.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly feeling shy. “Uh, how's the licorice?”

Tino looked flustered, toying with the cap of his thermos. “Well, I'm not saying I didn't already eat half of it, but…”

Emil chuckled. “Hey, I'm not gonna judge,” he shrugged. “Just glad we had it in stock for you.”

Tino beamed. Emil’s heart fluttered.

“So, uh,” he mumbled, tugging on his scarf. “You usually play Santa here?”

“For the past couple years or so,” Tino smiled. “I mean, it's only seasonal, obviously. Usually I'm a roadie!”

Emil’s eyebrows rose. “Really? With who?”

“Metal bands, mostly,” Tino shrugged, counting off fingers through his black mittens. “The Scream Beans, Alduin’s Wrath, Pyroclast, Bloody Mother-”

“Pyroclast?” Emil cut in, eyes lighting up. “I _love_ Pyroclast!”

“Oh, they were great!” Tino gushed. “The drummer gave me one of her old snares at the end of the tour. I mean, the skin was absolutely shredded, but still!”

“That's… oh, that's awesome,” Emil sighed.

“What about you?” Tino asked. 

Emil’s spirits sank, and he suddenly felt self-conscious. “Oh, uh, just a cashier.”

“Hey, no such thing as _just_ a cashier,” Tino said firmly. “Any job is as respectable as the next, alright?”

“That's… very kind of you,” Emil said, giving a small smile. “Thanks.”

Tino looked delighted, and Emil felt that fluttery feeling again.

“Listen, um,” he mumbled, speaking before he really realized what he was doing. “This is a total shot in the dark, but, uhm, did you want to, maybe, do something? Like, together?”

Tino looked at him with wide eyes, and Emil instantly kicked himself mentally. What kind of weirdo just dumps a question like that out of nowhere? Tino was happily married for all he knew and now he just seemed like a creep-

“Sure!”

He looked up to find Tino smiling wide again, that sparkle in his eye brighter than ever. He turned and shifted through the clutter behind the backdrop, returning with a stack of festive cards and a pen.

“I'm gonna be up to my armpits in work until after the holidays,” he said as he scribbled something in the card. “And I'm sure you will be too, but, give me a call when things settle down, okay?”

He handed Emil the card with his phone number written on it, still beaming.

“Yeah,” Emil said, face flushed and smiling shyly. “Yeah, that sounds great! Will do!”

The pair of teenage elves returned then, and shoppers started gathering excitedly in front of the village again.

Tino took another gulp from his thermos and shot one more smile at Emil. “Don't forget!” he said as he tugged on his beard. “It's a date!”

Emil couldn't stop smiling as he watched that cheerful man step out and greet the horde of children, pocketing the card and taking a seat back on the bench, a sort of happy warmth settling through him that he hadn't felt in a long while. 

“Emil, hey!”

He looked up to find Beck and Sigurd heading his way, Sigurd with heavy looking wrapped bundle in his arms. He rose to his feet to meet them.

“How you feelin’?” Beck said, a smile on his face but concern in his eyes. Emil found it easy to smile back, though.

“Better,” he said. “Uh, anything else you guys wanted to do here?”

Beck shrugged and Sigurd shook his head. “Not really. It's time we get home anyways, this place is getting too crowded.”

“Agreed!” Beck said, nudging his way through the crowd now forming around the Santa village. “There's such a thing as too much holiday spirit in one place!”

Emil sklinked after his brothers, shooting one more glance at the holly-covered throne at the end of the village. For a split second, he caught Tino’s eye again and they shared a merry grin, before he lost his gaze in the crowd of people. 

He slipped his hands into his pocket and felt the little card between his fingers. Probably better to tell Beck and Sigurd about that later, he thought, subconsciously humming along to the music playing over the mall radio.


End file.
